Real Rio in a photo

A lot of the real Rio de Janeiro most gringos don't see appears in this photo

Language Schools

Unrelated picture of some people on Copacabana

Yeah yeah it's been a while since the last update...but exciting things have been happening and I've been really busy! "What?" you ask. "A gringo busy in Rio?" Well yes, very much so. As your mighty powers of observation have undoubtedly informed you, language schools are today's topic of ranting and have been responsible for ruining my sleeping schedule and preventing beer-ing.

Upon arriving in Rio I was determined to find an ESL teaching job, and confident I could do so. This was based mostly on the fact that on the Federal Immigration form they gave us on the plane 'ship' was misspelt as 'shaep.' After just a few days here I felt like I was languishing (which I was definitely not) and set out upon Rio's English schools with a pile of resumes and a naive smile. There is a string of language centers on a street in Ipanema I decided to hit up first, at the same time exploring that pleasant neighborhood where the coconuts are four times more expensive than they should be.

I quickly sensed things were amiss in the local ESL industry. In the first school I visited I was greeted by an attractive young blonde with braces (lots of young adults wear braces here, it's rather disconcerting) wearing an 'I heart English' T-shirt. She smiled coyly and I thought, "Boy, I wanna work here." I politely asked if she, the senora, spoke English. Her eyes glazed over. I mumbled some more Portuguese as she flustered about trying to find a translator. I really wanted to say, "don't you know what your shirt says?" but she was kinda hot so I didn't.

This scene more or less repeated itself in a half dozen different schools. They all had their own proficiency tests and free compositions, grudgingly handed over by employees who spoke little or no English. Many were actually quite rude, sending me out the door as soon as I announced myself. This was quite a shock, as I expected schools to jump on the opportunity to have a CELTA trained native speaker. A pretentious Brit at a British ESL school explained it to me: He said something like, "we don't hire off-the-boat novice English teachers, and other schools won't either since the socialist government will not issue work visas to foreigners when they think Brazilians can do the job."

Another unrelated picture, of Ipanema

Eventually I found a place that would take me. Due to potential legal issues, the most I can say about it is that whoever decorated the interior and its adjacent cafe must have really had a hard-on for vampires. I doubt you could find more pictures of Edward in one place anywhere else in Rio. I started teacher training there every afternoon for 3 hours at the same time I started daily morning Portuguese lessons, and these both conspired to steal away beach time (however, nap time has been preserved for it is sacred), and are leaving me quite tired at the end of the day. But not tired enough to miss out on a music recital of choral students singing Brazilian soap opera theme songs.

In the teacher training there are some great people, new friends and colleagues, and a crazy lady. Girls cry, men are broken, and I show off how totally pro I am at teaching. The Portuguese beginner-level classes feature a Swede, a half-Brazilian/Egyptian from Amsterdam, some Americans who've been here for two years, some hot Germans and French, and an annoying Australian. I passed the training and now am starting teaching soon, tomorrow is my first class, so that's good...but they pay pretty horribly. I really want to find private students and charge them accordingly...know anyone in Rio who wants to learn English real good?

Adenir and Education

Waiting for me at the Rio airport was Adenir. He is a wonderful man from Minas Gerais, a rural farm state next to the state of Rio (like New York, Rio de Janeiro is a state and a city). He studied under my grandfather and was his secretary during the 70's or sometime when the military or someone was doing bad deeds or something. Whatever happened, he now worships my grandfather, which of course is good for me; free lunches.

His rural background and affect remain with him, much to the chagrin of his two children, but I find it charming and it has him say all kinds of great things. He once asked me what religion I was while we were examining some of his books. I replied, "a little Quaker, but mostly nothing" (readers of my other writings will know what's up with me and Quakerism) to which Adenir said, "I am, a little, Alfredo!" Alfredo being my grandfather. The next day we were having dinner at a choperia where I learned that "cariocas [people from Rio] are beautiful but problematic" and how quail eggs "are Viagra," and on the way back Adenir states, "Alfredo is like Batman. You know Batman?" I mumble in reply, "euhh, sim?" Adenir beams at me. "Yes. Batman, Robin, and Alfredo." With that I know I'm welcome in his home for at least another week.

On my first day in Rio, the family sat around at lunch and discussed politics. Pretty much everyone I've met doesn't like Dilma, the new president, for various reasons (another classic Adenir moment: "Hey, she is woman, give her a chance. It will. Be. Interesting."); either because she's a hypocrite, or not radical enough, or too communist. Each person at the table had such a different political opinion it was hard to believe they were related. I sat wide-eyed and overwhelmed, trying to drown out the cacophony of unfamiliar sounds (they weren't even words to me at that point) with mouthfuls of cachorro-quente. Once I had eaten everything I had nothing to hide behind so tried to describe the midterm elections in the U.S. Not surprisingly my explanation quickly devolved into me saying 'left, right, and center' over and over until Adenir chimed in cheerfully, "Politics. It is just like football." And with that, discussion was closed.

I love the guy, he really takes good care of me, almost to the point of absurdity. Like holding my shoulder when crossing the street, or directing me around the subway (which has special cars just for women during rush hour) with his hand on my back. On our way to a public school where he teaches he was so absorbed in making sure I got on the train that he fell in the gap between the train and platform. He was fine, thank goodness, and later asked me what it means when the train announcer says "mind the gap." 

Adenir with a student

At his school I got to see what few gringos see; an up-close and intensely personal experience with Rio's public schools. Fabricio, Adenir's son, later told me, "you went to hell and survived!" In retrospect, yes, I have seen hell and it is a classroom filled with screaming favela teens hitting each other, knocking over desks, and repeatedly asking if I am Edward from Twilight or if I know Justin Bieber personally. "This is just our situation," a teacher told me, "we deal with it." 

I was paraded though a series of 'English classes' where I sat in a corner and had half the class huddle around me and the other half completely ignore me and the teacher, who translated for the kids with a massive profanity filter. The boys usually took passing interest, asking me about video games (FYI 'Pikachu' is the same in Portuguese) and action movies, hip-hop and American women. The girls were, for the lack of a better term, what my friend Sam would call 'prostitots,' and would not shut up about how nicely they could cut my hair or how badly they wanted to see New York. The teacher I was with told me, "Brazilian women are very sensual. It is hard to be a gringo man in Brazil." Normally I would have thought she was crazy, but after what I saw in those classrooms I think she might be on to something.

After 5 hours I was definitely ready to go, and as I left with Adenir a girl from one of the classes I visited ran up and put a piece of paper in his pocket. It was for me, and had 'please, write, email soon!' scrawled on it with an Gmail address that weirdly sounded like a New York hospital's name. I told him more or less what happened (we have a pretty big communication gap), how the kids were very talkative but didn't say much, the ridiculous questions, etc, and his answer made me laugh. "You see, here in Gloria neighborhood there are many trees. They talk a lot here because there is a lot of oxygen!" Its all about delivery with him.